


Poetry

by ActuallyGimli



Category: Original Work
Genre: Domestic Violence, Gen, Love Poems, Mental Health Issues, Metaphors, Multi, Narcissism, Poetry, Politics, Sad, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-01-27 16:08:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 1,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12585600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ActuallyGimli/pseuds/ActuallyGimli
Summary: A collection of poems about political issues and mental health.





	1. Pretty, Pretty Abuser

He's a:  
Razor blade, marmalade,  
Snake bite, lemonade,  
Pretty, pretty Ken doll,  
And pretty, pretty cruel.

He'll:  
Cut you up, buttercup,  
Butcher you, and love it too,  
Ask you pretty, pretty please,  
And bring you to your pretty knees.

He's a:  
Monster, daydream,  
Candy killer, supreme,  
Pretty, pretty beautiful,  
And pretty, pretty mean.

He'll:  
Chew you up, kiss it better,  
Cut you with a sweet love letter,  
Say pretty, pretty nothings to you,  
And give you pretty bruises too.

He's a:  
Narcissist with pretty eyes,  
Abuser, twisting candy lies,  
Pretty, pretty on the skin,  
But pretty rotten deep within.


	2. A Slow Descent

Life’s an uphill struggle,  
Take a smoke break to clear my head.  
No sleep, rinse, repeat.  
Work or think? Get out of my head.  
Another glass of wine,  
Staying buzzed to take the edge off.  
I’m not drunk, I promise,  
I’m just angry and I never sleep.  
Who needs a job anyway?  
Life goes by faster when I’m out of my mind.  
Knock, knock, go away, I’m busy being numb.  
These bottles don’t judge me like their eyes do.  
Pills take the pain of life away,  
Won’t mention the pain they’ve caused me.  
Let me destroy myself in peace.  
I’m digging a grave and I know it.  
I’m afraid, but I’ll never show it.  
My refuge is now my prison.  
Friends with the bottom of a bottle,  
Or two, or three, or hundreds.  
I’ve lost count of all the lies,  
Just one more then I’ll quit.  
Self control isn’t my best quality,  
Maybe that’s why I ate a bottle of pills.  
So instead of counting vices,  
I can count the seconds before I sleep…


	3. Poppies

You were an artist painting flowers in the garden of your mind,  
Each petal as divine as a rose handcrafted by God.  
You were a teacher watering the seeds of creativity in so many hearts,  
The lives you touched as abundant and beautiful as a field of poppies.

But your own garden was being darkened by opioid clouds,  
And slowly all your flowers were broken down.  
You were an addict that painted poppies because they were beautiful,  
But those ugly flowers took a true beauty away.


	4. Alive Yet Dead

Mourn not the day her body dies,  
A shell is not worth tears.  
You loved only a ghost of life,  
Her soul’s been dead for years.

Don’t shed a tear for what you lost,  
She was never really yours.  
Her heart belonged to death alone,  
You loved a breathing corpse.

Never love a broken thing,  
Though they may look whole.  
The pieces that make them alive,  
They are the first to go.


	5. Too Purple for Binary

The sky was purple today,  
But that’s just the outcast way,  
Of saying it was blue and pink,  
And many other hues.

That’s the way our tongues take,  
Beauty from a masterpiece,  
And change art into binary.

Rose over primary,  
Blue as a default,  
Pink on occasion, for beauty,  
And only for her aesthetics,  
Never more, never mixed.

He’s mostly blue and overpowered,  
Sometimes pink, but brief,  
Never strays from the status quo,  
Never purple.

Blue or pink.


	6. Generations

Our generation is going to hell in a hand basket,  
Guess you left the eggs there too long,  
Chickens hatching in desperation,  
Underneath basket weavers of destruction.

Collect the crop you’ve sewn and watered,  
With thistles and acid rain,  
The seed isn’t to blame,  
The farmer is.

Blame us for our disposition, point out all our flaws,  
Blame the toy and not the craftsman,  
The wood doesn’t carve itself,  
Don’t forget, you’re the ones who raised us.

We’re the one’s reaping the harvest,  
Of all your dirty weeds, dirty deeds,  
Children of the way you made us,  
Being blamed for generations of bad blood.

So if we’re bitter then you’re still to blame,  
Like crops at the winter harvest,  
A harsh environment brings a bitter fruit.  
Don’t blame the seed that was never nurtured.


	7. Tidal Wave

I am like water, I am the sea.  
A world hidden beneath the surface,  
A nightmare in the deep.  
Life and death and salty air,  
A cool contented breeze.  
Harmony and chaos,  
Beauty and the deep.  
Strength to hold up ships,  
Only passing in the night.  
Nothing ever lingers,  
In my suffocating depths.  
I can’t be held, and I can’t be tamed.  
I am freedom and I am alone.  
I am destruction and a raging tide,  
Restless without an end.  
I am the waters of destruction,  
I am the sea at night.


	8. Standards

I’m not okay by your standards,  
But by mine I’m doing fine.  
I still think about it often,  
But I won’t take my own life. 

The knives and blades they tempt me,  
And I know that isn’t right,  
But I won’t slice my life away,  
At least not tonight.

I’m not drunk though I want to be,  
But I won’t take that first sip.  
It’s a vice I never thought I’d have,  
But I’ll stray away from its grip.

I’m not happy thats true,  
But I’m not a sobbing mess.  
I cry more than average still,  
But at least I’m crying less.

And I’m not content with how things are,  
I’m mostly just numb,  
But it’s better than the place,  
I came previously from.

So I’m not okay by your standards,  
But by mine I’m doing fine.  
I’m not normal, I’m not happy,  
But at least I’m alive.

That’s more than I expected,  
Just a few years ago,  
I thought I’d take my own life,  
It’s depressing, I know.

I’m still struggling to stand up,  
While everyone else walks by me,  
But what’s down to you is higher,  
Than I ever thought I’d be.

I’m not up yet, I still fall,  
I may not ever run,  
But what looks like failing to you,  
Is still the best I’ve ever done.


	9. Sugar Sands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A metaphor for obesity. (TW: food mention and eating disorder?)

I walk along the shore with a shovel in my hand.  
But below me is sugar instead of rolling sand.  
And my shovel is a spoon grasped tightly in my hand.  
Compelling me to dig a hole into this crystal land.

It may take a lifetime to dig a hole this wide.  
Big enough to fit all of myself inside.  
But the work may become shorter with every single bite.  
As I eat the hole I’m digging out to hold me when I die.


	10. Cold and Empty

I awake  
to an empty bed  
and I am cold

I cling  
to a pillow  
that used to be yours

I inhale  
scent of our sheets  
now mine alone

I lay  
in a cold bed  
and I am empty


	11. My Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A metaphor for shutting people out.

My room, with the bolted lock,  
A safe haven, or cell block.  
A single key, opens the door,  
For me only, and no more.  
No windows here, walls are black,  
A hidden shelter, from attack.  
No enemies in, or strangers eyes,  
No friends near, to hear my cries.  
My wooden door, a barricade,  
This loneliness, a serenade,  
To walls, covered in gentle art,  
In my room, locked like my heart.  
Trapped, afraid on the floor,  
My room, myself, a metaphor.


	12. Kaleidoscope for the Colorless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by knlalla's Phanfic, "Sea Glass"

Charcoal smudges and gray skies,  
Monochrome sketches and lonely eyes,  
Notebooks lined with inky hues,  
And sadness as my only muse.

The world awash in black and white,  
Dull canvases wish to be bright,  
But colors never were my thing,  
Preferring winter to the spring.

Then a masterpiece with ocean eyes,  
Or sometimes clear and crystal skies,  
A sunshine smile that my soul craves,  
And laughter like the crashing waves,

Walked into my dreary abyss,  
With complexion like a rainbow’s kiss,  
And sparked a kaleidoscope in my gaze,  
And brought forth colors out of haze.

My ashen palette wouldn’t do,  
So I’ll draw with colors just for you,  
And try to capture your liveliness,  
You brought vibrance to the colorless.


	13. Trust

You took my heart and held it close,  
Loved it like it was a treasure.  
Then you tossed it aside, stepped on it,  
And shot it a few times for good measure.

I have no doubt you’ll take it back,  
Kiss and bandage it anew.  
And it will learn to trust again,  
But at no cost to you.


	14. Bittersweet Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: Self-Harm

Take a walk with me, across the road to the hospital,  
Or maybe, just maybe, down the street to the morgue.  
We were lovers, remember? Spent every night together.  
You’re not allowed to say you don’t love me anymore.

I’m persistent. I’ll whisper, take me back you need me.  
Let’s spend the night just one more time, our love is bittersweet.  
I’ll leave after tonight I swear, but you’ll come crawling back to me.  
This is a love - hate relationship spilling red across the sheet.

I’m cold and hard, yet there for you when you need me most.  
I’ll kiss your arms, your thighs, your hips. Paint a masterpiece on your skin.  
You hate my touch and the marks I leave to show where I have been.  
Every night you say this is the last time, but you’ll keep crawling back again.


End file.
